there's a grab-bag of entities which don't have as firm an answer as we'd like -- dreams, halucinations, mistaken worldviews, historical counter-factuals, hypothetical examples...
One of the claims that is often made by the representationalist position that Sokolowski critiques is that many of the properties of objects that we are aware of do not exist "in-themselves," and are thus less than fully real. For example: "nothing looks blue 'of-itself, things only look blue to a subject who sees." If the property of "being blue," or of "being recognizably a door" does not exist mind-independently, they argue, such properties must in some way be "constructed by the mind," and thus are less real.
What I'd like to point out is that this sort of relationality seems to be true for all properties. For example, we would tend to say that "being water soluble" is a property of table salt. However, table salt only ever dissolves in water when it is placed in water (in the same way that lemon peels only "taste bitter" when in someone's mouth). The property has to be described as a relation, a two-placed predicate, something like - dissolves(water, salt).
I think there is a good argument to be made that all properties are relational in this way, at least all the properties that we can ever know about. For how could we ever learn about a property that doesn't involve interaction?
So, "appearing blue" is a certain sort of relationship that involves an object, a person, and the environment. However, this in no way makes it a sort of "less real" relation. Salt's dissolving in water involves the same sort of relationality. The environment is always involved too. If it is cold enough, salt will not dissolve in water because water forms its own crystal at cold enough temperatures. Likewise, no physical process results in anything "looking blue" in a dark room, or in a room filled with an anesthetic that would render any observer unconscious.
Intelligibilities (form abstracted from the senses) require syntax to acquire (ratio). They result from bringing many relations together in such a way that they can be "present" at once and understood (intellectus). The grasping of a thing's intelligibility by a rational knower is a very special sort of relationship. This isn't just because it involves phenomenal awareness. "Looking blue" or "tasting bitter" is a relationship between some object and an observer, but these do not "actualize" an intelligibility. What the grasp of an intelligibility by the intellect does is it allows many of an object's relational properties to be present together, often in ways that are not possible otherwise (e.g. something cannot burn and not burn, dissolve and not be dissolved, be wet and not wet, etc. at the same time, but we can know how a thing responds to fire, acid, water, etc.)
For example, salt can dissolve in water. It can also do many other things as it interacts with other chemicals/environments. However, it cannot do all of these at once. Only within the lens of the rational agent are all these properties brought together. E.g., water can boil and it can freeze, but it can't do both simultaneously. Yet in the mind of the chemist, water's properties in myriad contexts can be brought together.
In a certain way then, things are most what they are when their intelligibility is grasped by a rational agent. For, over any given interval, a thing will only tend to manifest a small number of its properties — properties which make the thing "what it is." E.g., a given salt crystal over a given interval only interacts with one environment; all of its relational properties are not actualized. Yet in the mind of the rational agent who knows a thing well, a vast number of relational properties are brought together. If a thing "is what it does," then it is in the knowing mind that "what it does" is most fully actualized. And this is accomplished through syntax, which allows disparate relations to be combined, divided, and concatenated across time and space.
So, rather than the relationship between knower and known being a sort of "less real" relationship, I would argue it is the most real relationship because it is a relationship where all of a things disparate properties given different environments can be brough together. And this is a relationship that is realized in history.
Let's pretend unique musical forms aren't dead (nor history either) and 1000 years later, people are listening to Drock music. Why aren't we listening to Drock music now?
Notice that there being a "Youth Culture" in general is something quite new.

The idea that "some people are not perfected" by one's own presumably correct doctrine makes me smile, but I suppose it expresses the attitude you'd have to take if you saw philosophy as an attempt to make a single correct view triumph, and the failure to do so is down to the other guy, not the issue itself.
But when it comes to philosophical views? I would have said that one of the key differences between thinking philosophically and our ordinary ways of thinking about the world is the recognition that we don't propose ignorance or bad faith as a plausible explanation for someone's disagreeing with us. And I have to admit how difficult it is for me even to imagine carrying on as you suggest.
What would you think of the method that says, "Hmm, tell me more. Help me understand why you say this. Here's how I see it. Let's see what we can learn"?
It appears that it is a common way of thinking of "substance" as being something fundamental. According to the above descriptions, substance would not be fundamental but would simply be what we call a thing that consists of only type of atom or molecule, and atoms are not stuff but are excitations in fields. We abandoned this view of atoms being little billiard balls bouncing around in favor of quantum mechanics that talks about wave functions and superposition. So it appears that science at least has abandoned the idea that substance is something fundamental, in favor of a view that process appears to be fundamental and substances are just a type of process, or relation between certain types of atoms.
The epistemic issues raised by multiplicity and ceaseless change are addressed by Aristotle’s distinction between principles and causes. Aristotle presents this distinction early in the Physics through a criticism of Anaxagoras.1 Anaxagoras posits an infinite number of principles at work in the world. Were Anaxagoras correct, discursive knowledge would be impossible. For instance, if we wanted to know “how bows work,” we would have to come to know each individual instance of a bow shooting an arrow, since there would be no unifying principle through which all bows work. Yet we cannot come to know an infinite multitude in a finite time.2
However, an infinite (or practically infinite) number of causes does not preclude meaningful knowledge if we allow that many causes might be known through a single principle (a One), which manifests at many times and in many places (the Many). Further, such principles do seem to be knowable. For instance, the principle of lift allows us to explain many instances of flight, both as respects animals and flying machines. Moreover, a single unifying principle might be relevant to many distinct sciences, just as the principle of lift informs both our understanding of flying organisms (biology) and flying machines (engineering).
For Aristotle, what are “better known to us” are the concrete particulars experienced directly by the senses. By contrast, what are “better known in themselves” are the more general principles at work in the world.3,i Since every effect is a sign of its causes, we can move from the unmanageable multiplicity of concrete particulars to a deeper understanding of the world.ii
For instance, individual insects are what are best known to us. In most parts of the world, we can directly experience vast multitudes of them simply by stepping outside our homes. However, there are 200 million insects for each human on the planet, and perhaps 30 million insect species.4 If knowledge could only be acquired through the experience of particulars, it seems that we could only ever come to know an infinitesimally small amount of what there is to know about insects. However, the entomologist is able to understand much about insects because they understand the principles that are unequally realized in individual species and particular members of those species.iii
Some principles are more general than others. For example, one of the most consequential paradigm shifts across the sciences in the past fifty years has been the broad application of the methods of information theory, complexity studies, and cybernetics to a wide array of sciences. This has allowed scientists to explain disparate phenomena across the natural and social sciences using the same principles. For instance, the same principles can be used to explain both how heart cells synchronize and why Asian fireflies blink in unison.1 The same is true for how the body’s production of lymphocytes (a white blood cell) takes advantage of the same goal-direct “parallel terraced scan” technique developed independently by computer programmers and used by ants in foraging.2
Notably, such unifications are not reductions. Clearly, firefly behavior is not reducible to heart cell behavior or vice versa. Indeed, such unifications tend to be “top-down” explanations, focusing on similarities between systems taken as wholes, as opposed to “bottom-up” explanations that attempts to explain wholes in terms of their parts.i...
At the outset of the second book of the Physics, Aristotle identifies proper beings as those things that are the source of their own production. (i.e. “possessing a nature”). Beings make up a whole—a whole which is oriented towards some end. This definition would seem to exclude mere parts of an organism. For example, a red blood cell is not the source of its own production, nor is it a self-governing whole.
On this view, living things would most fully represent “beings.” By contrast, something like a rock is not a proper being. A rock is a mere bundle of external causes. Moreover, if one breaks a rock in half, one simply has two smaller rocks (i.e., an accidental change). Whereas, if one cuts a cat in half, the cat—as a being—will lose its unity and cease to exist (i.e. death, a substantial change).
There are gradations in the level of unity something can have. Aristotle maintains that substantial change (i.e., the change by which one type of thing becomes another type of thing, e.g. a man becoming a corpse) involves contradictory opposition. That is, a thing is either man or not-man, fish or not-fish. It would not make sense for anything to be “half-man.”i
By contrast, unity involves contrary opposition.1 Things might be more or less unified, and more or less divisible. For instance, a volume of water in a jar is very easy to divide. A water molecule less so. We can think of the living organism as achieving a higher sort of unity, such that its diverse multitude of parts come to be truly unified into a whole through an aim.ii
For Aristotle, unity, “oneness” is the ground for saying that there are any discrete things at all. To say that there is “one duck” requires an ability to recognize a duck as a whole, to have “duck” as a measure. Likewise, to say that there are “three ducks” requires the measure “duck” by which a multitude of wholes is demarcated. Magnitude is likewise defined by unity, since it would not make sense to refer to a “half-foot” or a “quarter-note” without a measure by which a whole foot or note is known.2...
[Organisms are most properly wholes because they are unified by aims. Life is goal-directed.] What then can we say about the ways in which non-living things can be more or less unified? Here, the research on complexity and self-organizing, dissipative systems might be helpful. Consider very large objects such as, stars, nebulae, planets, and galaxies as an example. These are so large that the relatively weak force of gravity allows them to possess a sort of unity. Even if a planet is hit by another planet (our best hypothesis for how our own moon formed), it will reform due to the attractive power of gravity. Likewise, stars, galaxies, etc. have definable “life-cycles,” and represent a sort of “self-organizing system,” even though they are far less self-organizing than organisms. By contrast, a rock has a sort of arbitrary unity (although it does not lack all unity! We can clearly distinguish discrete rocks in a non-arbitrary fashion).
But isn't the goal of the kind of philosophy you espouse to resolve those disputes? More, to claim that in principle they must be resolvable? This would make the history of philosophy, taken in toto, a story of failure, since the disputes live on. That's the part that I have trouble recognizing as my own experience of doing philosophy with others.
The worry here is that the foundationalist philosopher who believes that everything of importance can be demonstrated apodictically, thus resolving all disagreements in favor of a position they hold, will treat those who disagree as if they must be doing something wrong, whether due to ignorance, stupidity, stubbornness, or malice.
I don't actually think that's true. Can you cite a relativist philosopher who says this, or who's been unable to respond to this criticism? If it were that simple to refute relativism, surely the position would be in the graveyard by now!
But I'd put it in historicist terms -- we can imagine Kripke being transplanted to another time with different concepts being taken seriously,
No, that would be ruled out, so the opposite would indeed be irrational. That's why indisputably foundational premises might be abandoned in favor of something closer to epistemic stance voluntarism
This may not be a worry for you, but many philosophers, myself included, are concerned about the consequences of rational obligation which do seem to follow, as you correctly show, from allegedly indisputable premises. The idea that there is only one right way to see the world, and only one view to take about disagreements, seems counter to how philosophy actually proceeds, in practice,
and also morally questionable.
I'm getting confused by "rational nature" and "finite nature" and "transcend their finitude". Could you rephrase in more ordinary terms? Are you talking about objectivity and subjectivity?
And would a strong epistemology of rational obligation mean that we were wrong in doing this?
You seem to be hung up on the idea that every property of an object is essential to that object's identity. If not, then two distinct objects could have the same identity. Why is this difficult for you to accept?
It leads to implausible claims. Joe has the property of being awake at T1, and the property of being asleep at T2.
What I have been complaining about is the way that modal logic is interpreted and applied. To avoid determinism, (fatalism), we must allow that any spoken about object has no existence, or true identity, in the future, and therefore the fundamental laws are inapplicable. It is a possible object, and this means that it cannot have a true identity. But in the past, the object had existence, therefore identity, and the laws are applicable. If we do not respect this difference, that modal logic can be applied consistently with the three laws toward the past, but it cannot be applied consistently with the three laws toward the future, equivocation of different senses of "possible" is implied, along with significant misunderstanding
In short, if you start from premises you believe you can show to be foundational, does that commit you to also saying that everything that follows is rationally obligatory?
[/quote]That you are caused to so reason?
Good stuff, but here is the thing: the bolded conclusion isn't justified. It begs the question. From the fact that we impose artificial boundaries on hurricanes it doesn't follow that hurricanes don't exist apart from those boundaries.
Doesn't it depend on what the current goal is? Is it useful to think of all living and non-living things as part of one group? If so, when is that the case? Is it useful to think of living things as separate from non-living things? If so, when is that the case?
not that the universe is contradictory or ill-defined.
House of Cards?
The most influential critiques of ontological emergence theories target these notions of downward causality and the role that the emergent whole plays with respect to its parts. To the extent that the emergence of a supposedly novel higher - level phenomenon is thought to exert causal influence on the component processes that gave rise to it, we might worry that we risk double - counting the same causal influence, or even falling into a vicious regress error — with properties of parts explaining properties of wholes explaining properties of parts. Probably the most devastating critique of the emergentist enterprise explores these logical problems. This critique was provided by the contemporary American philosopher Jaegwon Kim in a series of articles and monographs in the 1980s and 1990s, and is often considered to be a refutation of ontological (or strong) emergence theories in general, that is, theories that argue that the causal properties of higher - order phenomena cannot be attributed to lower - level components and their interactions. However, as Kim himself points out, it is rather only a challenge to emergence theories that are based on the particular metaphysical assumptions of substance metaphysics (roughly, that the properties of things inhere in their material constitution), and as such it forces us to find another footing for a coherent conception of emergence.
The critique is subtle and complicated, and I would agree that it is devastating for the conception of emergence that it targets. It can be simplified and boiled down to something like this: Assuming that we live in a world without magic (i.e., the causal closure principle, discussed in chapter 1), and that all composite entities like organisms are made of simpler components without residue, down to some ultimate elementary particles, and assuming that physical interactions ultimately require that these constituents and their causal powers (i.e., physical properties) are the necessary substrate for any physical interaction, then whatever causal powers we ascribe to higher - order composite entities must ultimately be realized by these most basic physical interactions. If this is true, then to claim that the cause of some state or event arises at an emergent higher - order level is redundant. If all higher - order causal interactions are between objects constituted by relationships among these ultimate building blocks of matter, then assigning causal power to various higher - order relations is to do redundant bookkeeping. It’s all just quarks and gluons — or pick your favorite ultimate smallest unit — and everything else is a gloss or descriptive simplification of what goes on at that level. As Jerry Fodor describes it, Kim’s challenge to emergentists is: “why is there anything except physics?” 16
The concept at the center of this critique has been a core issue for emergentism since the British emergentists’ first efforts to precisely articulate it. This is the concept of supervenience...
Effectively, Kim’s critique utilizes one of the principal guidelines for mereological analysis: defining parts and wholes in such a way as to exclude the possibility of double - counting. Carefully mapping all causal powers to distinctive non - overlapping parts of things leaves no room to find them uniquely emergent in aggregates of these parts, no matter how they are organized...
Terrance Deacon - Incomplete Nature
This is not meant to suggest that we should appeal to quantum strangeness in order to explain emergent properties, nor would I suggest that we draw quantum implications for processes at human scales. However, it does reflect a problem with simple mereological accounts of matter and causality that is relevant to the problem of emergence.
A straightforward framing of this challenge to a mereological conception of emergence is provided by the cognitive scientist and philosopher Mark Bickhard. His response to this critique of emergence is that the substance metaphysics assumption requires that at base, “particles participate in organization, but do not themselves have organization.” But, he argues, point particles without organization do not exist (and in any case would lead to other absurd consequences) because real particles are the somewhat indeterminate loci of inherently oscillatory quantum fields. These are irreducibly processlike and thus are by definition organized. But if process organization is the irreducible source of the causal properties at this level, then it “cannot be delegitimated as a potential locus of causal power without eliminating causality from the world.” 20 It follows that if the organization of a process is the fundamental source of its causal power, then fundamental reorganizations of process, at whatever level this occurs, should be associated with a reorganization of causal power as well.
Terrance Deacon - Incomplete Nature
Aristotle identifies nature as an "innate impulse of change" that not only sets things in motion but governs the course of those motions and brings them to rest. Only certain things have such inner sources of motion. A tentative list of natural beings is given in the first sentence of Book II, but it is corrected in the second paragraph. The parts of animals are not independent things, so while blood, say, or bone is natural, neither of them is that to which an inner source of motion belongs primarily, in virtue of itself. It is only the whole animal that has a nature, or a whole plant. Similarly, fire cannot properly be said to have a nature, since it is incapable of being a whole [though is can be said to be "natural"]. Like blood and bone, fire, along with earth, air, and water, is only part of the whole being that has a nature.The ordered whole of the cosmos is the one independent thing in nature that is not an animal or plant.
You seemed to think the conclusion of his argument is skepticism
Of things that exist, some exist by nature, some from other causes. "By nature' the animals and their parts exist, and the plants and the simple bodies (earth, fire, air, water)-for we say that these and the like exist 'by nature'.
Aristotle identifies nature as an "innate impulse of change" that not only sets things in motion but governs the course of those motions and brings them to rest. Only certain things have such inner sources of motion. A tentative list of natural beings is given in the first sentence of Book II, but it is corrected in the second paragraph. The parts of animals are not independent things, so while blood, say, or bone is natural, neither of them is that to which an inner source of motion belongs primarily, in virtue of itself. It is only the whole animal that has a nature, or a whole plant. Similarly, fire cannot properly be said to have a nature, since it is incapable of being a whole. Like blood and bone, fire, along with earth, air, and water, is only part of the whole being that has a nature.The ordered whole of the cosmos is the one independent thing in nature that is not an animal or plant.
Are they?
For Aristotle, every individual, every particular, (what we call an object), consists of matter and form. The composite is an instance of primary substance. You'll notice that he doesn't only talk about living beings, but also things like bronze statues. I think you are applying unwarranted restrictions to Aristotle's hylomorphism

Actually, I’m not even sure that the modern picture yields a cogent notion of causation, let alone mentality. Once the whole concept of cause had been reduced from an integral system of rationales to single instances of local physical efficiency, causality became a mere brute fact—something of a logical black box. As is so very much a part of the peculiar genius of the modern sciences, description flourishes precisely because explanation has been left to wither. Hume certainly understood this. Once the supposedly spectral causal agencies of the old system had been chased away, he found causality itself now to be imponderable, logically nothing more than an arbitrary sequence of regular phenomenal juxtapositions. It presumed no abiding substrate of continuity—no prime matter—and no formal or final laws of intrinsic order. It had lost the rational necessity of an equation or syntactically coherent predicative sentence. The earlier understanding of causal relations faded into the obscurity of an occult principle whose only discernible logic is “it happens.”
So now we’re presented with the experience of a mind “in here” in each of us, which seems to function by a series of rational connections, and a mechanical world “out there,” which seems to function by accidental concatenations of unthinking material forces; and we’re asked to adopt a unified theory that collapses the former into the latter, however implausible that seems.
By contrast, there was at least a logic of change in the Aristotelian model—the integral logic of potentiality and actuality. It was a basic principle that, in any finite causal relation, change occurs in the effect, not in the cause itself. But, of course, in the realm of the finite, agent and patient functions are impossible to confine each to a single pole of any causal relationship. When two finite substances are involved in a causal relation, that is, each undergoes some change, because each is limited and lacking in some property the other can supply, and so each functions as both a cause and an effect in that relation. Each actualizes some potential latent in the other. Ice melts upon a burning coal but also cools the coal; and neither can affect the other without also being affected in turn.
Each—to use a term slowly gaining more credence in the philosophy of science—has a disposition to a state that the other has a faculty for making active. But, of course, “disposition” here is just another word for "potential.” Causality in that way of seeing things isn’t just the extrinsic application of efficient force, merely randomly inducing a reaction, but an equation reached by addition and subtraction, so to speak: an intricate harmony of intrinsic dispositions and extrinsic occasions, one event
awakening and being awakened by another.
I'm not clear on the purpose of this. It seems clear that some premises are more plausible than others, and the premise that all others are conspiring against one would count as one of the least plausible imaginable. I've already said that reason consists in conclusions being consistent with premises, and also that premises should be consistent with human experience taken as whole, since that is the condition into which we are inducted in growing up.
To my eye it misrepresents that argument.
Likewise we have no way of determining whether our beliefs about the reliability of others' judgements, or our scientific theories are correct, even though it seems reasonable to think we have a better idea about the veracity of those based on whether the predictions they yield are observed.
The only certainties would seem to be the logical, including mathematics, and the directly observable.
I have the utmost respect for others' faiths. provided they don't seek to indoctrinate others. I have my own beliefs which are based on pure faith, but I don't want to argue for them because I see that it is pointless given that no intersubjectively determinate corroboration is possible in respect of them.
The problem with this is that it seems to believe that we individuals spring into life fully formed, ready to make choices. But that is not the case. We are born, we grow up and learn what we need to know about our environment, including our society; only then are we capable of exercising the freedoms that our situation affords us.
Roughly, my view starts from understanding an individual as a member of society, which not only defines the freedoms and restrictions that individuals live with, but educates and trains them to do so. What counts as flourishing depends on the options enabled by the environment and the society in which one lives
Liberalism has got one thing right - the point (telos?) of society is the welfare (flourishing) of the individuals who are its members. But the idea that the social context in which we live is some sort or imposition on us is a misunderstanding.
A counter-example would help.
This is where I think you misunderstand liberalism, or the Rawlsian version, at any rate. You apparently have the idea of a government that can "give answers" on matters such as human telos, or avoid doing so. But what would this mean in practice? How does a state "give an answer"? The liberal replies: by imposing authority, by precluding or impeding the realization of answers that disagree with the state position.
And this it must not do, if a reasonable degree of individual freedom is to be preserved.
Or, if by "give an answer," you simply mean that a state can name founding principles while ensuring that active, legitimate opposition is respected ... well, that is liberal democracy!
Also, as I've noted before, to say "what is important is . . ." implies that it's the only important thing. But Rawls considers many factors to be important, not least of which is finding a just balance between "enabling private exploration" and gumming up the works for everybody.
It seems clear to me that of all our kinds of beliefs those based on religious and mystical experiences are the least grounded, are in fact groundless, and are thus purely matters of faith. I understand that it may be hard for some to admit this―however I don't see this as a bug, but rather a feature. If people generally understood this, there would be no evangelism, no religious indoctrination and no fundamentalism, and I think we would then have a better world.
If your first point is that rule-following alone does not equate to content, then we might agree. I'd answer this problem by again pointing out that one's understanding of any rule is to be found in the actions seen in following it or going against it. And here we might add that the action is what you call "content".
A philosopher may wonder whether true statements are true because they faithfully represent the world as it is or merely because they cohere with a vast range of other accepted statements. Charles S. Peirce was the philosopher who realized that that dilemma was badly misconceived because it induces us to think that truth is either a relation between a statement and an independent, extra-mental fact or else a relation between a statement and other statements. The dilemma seduces us into thinking, on the epistemological plane, that truth is either a matter of evidence-transcendent facts about correspondence or else a matter of mere acceptability (or rational acceptability), and on the ontological plane, that reality is either absolutely independent of how we experience it and conceive of it or else is a mere construct of our experience and discourse.
Peirce thought that the dilemma is deceptive on both planes. He also thought that he knew a good way out of this dilemma and, generally, out of the grand controversy between realism and idealism. In fact, he attempted a breakout twice, and it was the second time, I believe, that he was quite successful.
So it remains quite problematic to attempt to ground logic on an intuition. Much clearer to ground it on practice.
But does this principle also mean that everything you and I think and do is similarly poised between "determined by prior actuality" and "having no reasons at all"?
Apart from the metaphysical difficulties around causes versus reasons
it also raises the unpleasant specter of there being only one reasonable way to think and do.
The leap from "no determinate causes" to "no reason at all" in particular still eludes me.
"Tie back" raises the problem once again. Why does it do so? In what way? The priority of existence to human experience wouldn't guarantee the fidelity of our descriptions of that existence. Why does the key fit?
How is it the case that the world, and our experience of it, is so structured? Does the PNC and its cousins represent spade-turning principles about both thinking and being, in the same way, and for the same reasons?
Oh, I agree. I don't want it to be aporetic at all. It's just a hard question to answer, when the analogy is extended to logical primitives.
And again. Why puff it up in this way? No one, least of all me, is saying anything like this.
Now I think what I'm supposed to imagine next is that both questions get an explanation or a deconstructive answer that can resolve my puzzlement. To the first question, the reply is, "Because that's what 'your housekey' means. You can't have 'your housekey' without it having both those attributes: it fits your lock, and only your lock. So if you understand 'your housekey', there is no further question to be asked about it." To the second question, the reply is, "Because that's how an object comes to be yours: you possess it, it's been made for you and given to you. Also, since it's an important object in your life, you'll have it to hand, and shouldn't be surprised that this is the case. Are you still puzzled about why you live in a world in which all people fortunate enough to be housed have keys? You just do; that is your world; there's nothing special about you."
They resemble each other so closely yet have such different objects? Or am I wrong about that? Must I simply accept that the "key" of logic fits the "lock" of the world? Is it the case that, just as you can't have "my housekey" without understanding "my uniquely fitting key", you can't have (p v ~p) without understanding "our description of the world" or perhaps "what we do, talking about the world"?
I'd suggest it is a law about use of language which is truth preserving.
